In Authority We Trust
by BinarySpark
Summary: When Fox gets sentenced to death for a crime he did not commit, Corneria City starts to boil. Whether or not the power of the crowd is sufficient to break the chains placed upon them and their hero by a corrupt, power-hungry government, is yet to be decided.
1. Insult

Author's Notes: There we go, something that looks like a set-up for a multi-chaptered story. Not a lot to say here, other than that I never really expected Radio Silence to be received as (relatively) well as it was. That encouraged me to pen up this thing. So, thank you for the sweet words. And, of course, feedback is always appreciated.

Cheers to Fallenwolfe for taking the time to proofread this story, which improved its overall quality significantly.

Rated T for some strong language and violence.

* * *

**IN AUTHORITY WE TRUST  
I. Insult**

_December 19th, 9 ALW_

"There shall be order in this court!"

The voice was lost in the ocean of noise. Nobody listened. Nobody cared, either.

One person did care, however. He feared the wooden hammer on the desk just a few meters away from him. The intricate designs on the side. So elaborate, so perfectly hand-crafted. It was, in fact, imbued with a powerful magic. Something that could rival the miracles of bed time stories.

Someone behind him shouted "You corrupt piece of shit!", before being immediately beaten down with a nightstick.

Bang. Bang. The hammer produced noises that surpassed even the angry crowd. "I demand silence!"

Several seconds passed and suddenly everyone was quiet. An awkward kind of silence.

"Very well, let us proceed. Taking into account the evidence provided in Exhibits A, D and E, as well as the testimonies given by all witnesses of the aforementioned tragic event..."

Only a few more moments now. Suspense had been building for the past hour or so, but it had to come to a spike at _some_ point. The outburst from just a moment ago was only the tip of the iceberg, he hoped. Sheer numbers could invalidate whatever words the man in front of him produced and rescue him from his invisible chains, but he feared that the threat was strong enough to prevent that from happening. The tongue could be seen moving, forming syllables, producing vowels. A stinging feeling echoed in his heart - a mixture of sorrow, helplessness and adrenaline. He felt betrayed. Abused, by the very people he once tried so hard to protect, even though they technically were not to blame.

"... I hereby declare the defendant... _guilty as charged_... and sentence him... to death."

The slam of the enchanted oaken hammer echoed throughout the room, hitting the marble table underneath like a wax seal being stamped on a letter. Irreversible, indifferent, unquestionable. And then the crowd burst. Roar after roar of raw, untapped anger bounced off the smooth marble walls, filling the ears of everyone in range. Various insults flew around, nearly all of them being directed at the judge instead of himself. Oblivious to the exact contents of the comments behind him as he was, he knew there was little he could do on his own as of now. An escape run would likely end up getting him killed.

The young vulpine snapped out of his thoughts as his shoulders were grabbed rather roughly. Two canine soldiers on either of his sides ordered him, without saying a single word, to come along quietly. They probably used more force than what would have been necessary to complete the task.

As he ascended the stairs back to the large double doors, he examined the bowl-shaped court room, but only briefly. The number of people seated in those benches were beyond counting. Nearly all of them had their hands clenched into a fist, whilst shouting. He spotted his team members, standing next to each other, exchanging stares of disbelief. Other guards were having trouble keeping the seething mass under control, although some guards just stood there, doing nothing - perhaps hoping for the fire to grow and escalate. Even the judge seemed to be a little taken aback by the outburst of unbelief and rage. One of the soldiers grabbed the mercenary's neck and forced him to look straight ahead again, perhaps inadvertently slapping his face in the process. In the middle of his head-turn, his gaze locked upon one face on the second row from above. That man seemed to be the only one amidst the furious crowd who remained calmly seated. Adrenaline rushed through his brain as a painfully nostalgic feeling filled his stomach, almost making him throw up. That one person had black sunglasses, beautifully reflecting the sunlight coming in through the windows. A metal headset covered parts of his face, most noticably it covered the white mane running on top of his head. It contrasted with the orange fur around it. The strangely calm man opened his mouth to speak directly to him. Through the sounds in the room it was completely inaudible, but somehow the defendant recognized the words. Fox McCloud felt even this nostalgia being ripped away from his being as the vision of his father left his field of view. As soon as he left the room, the double doors closed but they failed to take away the soundwaves from the other side of the hall.

* * *

_December 20th_

The black haze in front of his eyes dissipated over the span of several minutes. Another minute passed as his brain registered something about him not standing upright. He was actually sprawled out on the ground, his cheek down on the floor. Fox felt as if he was dreaming, but highly lucid. Everything felt so surreal, and more importantly, hurt like hell. Even when he closed his blood-shot eyes, the whining ache was still there. Someone had mistreated the vulpine, as it would seem.

Dreadful silence was everything to be heard, filled only with his irregular, slow breathing and the occasional sniff. Fox shifted his body around a little, instinctively curling up into a furry ball, pulling his knees to his chest. Over the course of a few minutes his mind calmed, the physical aches turning out to be a lot less worse than he had initially feared.

The hero of the Lylat System - the famous Fox McCloud - had been reduced to _this_, with just one whack of a hammer. One verdict, that took the one thing he still cared about. He would get his revenge. Every fiber of his being was bent on making sure that the one person responsible for this mess would pay. Oh, and pay he would.

_Just let me fly... All I ask for is-_

Apparently he had been sleeping, because a clanking sound woke him up. Fox took his time pushing himself away from the cold stone floor, involuntarily stretching and arching his back in the process. How long had he been here? Several days, probably. He had only been let out once, for the court trial. The vulpine had been locked up in a small cell, white bricks shielding the outside world of whatever criminal was trapped in there. Shielding it from _him_.

Footsteps got closer. Acting purely on instinct, Fox reached for his hip, clenching his fist around the grip of a blaster that was not actually there. Of course, how could he be so stupid? The fox still had his comfy flight jacket on, and the accompanying pair of camo pants - the same he had been wearing that one fateful day. They were scratched here and there, but they still served their purpose. The echoing boots marched on, increasing in volume. At this point, the young mercenary began to panic. He reached for his lower right shin, where he usually kept a pocket knife hidden. Old mercenary habits never die, after all. Sadly, the weapon was not actually there either. As he touched the area, he quietly winced in pain, memories from a few days earlier flowing across his vision. Was it broken? No, that couldn't be, otherwise he wouldn't be able to walk on it. Just hurt, apparently, and probably for the best.

"What did you get yourself into, Fox..."

It took Fox several seconds to realize those words were not his own. They might have very well been, but they came from the other side of the metal bars that kept him from his freedom. On the other side of those bars stood a black-and-white striped raccoon. The figure was a bit smaller than Fox. He wore a jacket that was typical for low-ranking Cornerian military.

Fox found himself at a loss for words.

"If only you knew," he rumbled in response, leaning against the cell's back wall.

"You didn't shoot the guy, huh?"

"Is my answer relevant?"

"Guess not. Look." The raccoon cast a gaze at the corridor exit, before looking back at the vulpine. "I think this Seron guy is a weird fellow, a'ight?"

"...You don't say..."

"I don't believe you did it. You wouldn't. It's... aye..."

"Thanks, I guess," the vulpine dryly replied.

"Lis'n up, Fox. I'm going to accidentally drop this here, 'kay?"

Suddenly Fox was a lot more interested. "What?"

"The keys, silly. Unless you like to rot away here and end up with yer' brains being blown out." Unceremoniously the raccoon dropped his keys, instead of waiting for an answer. The metal objects hit the floor with a loud clinking. They were actually within Fox's reach, much to the vulpine's pleasure. "Please, though... take care, mate." Without another word, he walked away, sticking his paws in his pockets, idly whistling a tune Fox vaguely remembered.

* * *

_December 17th_

"You know I don't like mercenaries," General Seron remarked.

"No offense, sir, but we _did_ save your hide. Thrice."

"Of which I am perfectly aware, of course. And you have my thanks for that. It's nothing personal, but I'm sure you understand that I simply do not like the idea of _one_ mercenary team being, well, the pillar the entire Cornerian Federation rests upon."

"The people would tell you I'm good at what I do."

"I never said you weren't, and that isn't the point either."

"I understand, sir."

"Besides, shouldn't you be doing _other things_? I'm sure you had a great time up there, but maybe you should think of, you know, settling down."

"The sky is where I belong."

"You prefer to keep flying, even after all that?"

"... Yes... " A short, awkward pause. "... sir," Fox quickly added.

"You're aware of the risk?"

"With all due respect - that is just insulting."

"Yes. Sorry."

"The Army hasn't been all that good at facing aerial threats, no? I'm fairly sure Pepper will agree with me on that. So if you dislike having us as 'noble defenders', train the Army some more."

"Sadly you shot a fair part of them in the face half a year ago."

For the first time a small grin formed on the vulpine's face. "If I may be so blunt - what is your actual reason for calling me here?"

"You're quite to the point, aren't you. Very well."

The vulpine didn't answer but instead perked his ears and narrowed his eyes. Something was off about the snow-white panther's tone.

"I believe it is time for Corneria to change leadership. Pepper is a fine man, don't get me wrong, but he is growing old. I do not have a place for resistance in the matter, and you would make a perfect example. Again, nothing personal."

Fox rose from his seat, suddenly highly alert. "Are you-"

"Yes, Fox. Yes, I am."

The General suddenly leaned forward in his chair and poked something underneath his desk. Probably a button, which confirmed Fox's suspicions. Something was clearly wrong here.

That something proceeded to burst through the office door, as if on cue. Three heavily armed guards dashed into the room, forming a triangular formation with him in the center. Three respective powered plasma rifles aimed right at Fox's head, causing the latter to immediately back away from the desk and reach for his trademark ST-04 blaster pistol.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," the General remarked, a sickening grin developing on the white panther's muzzle.

Swimming in adrenaline, the orange fox slowly raised both of his paws, admitting defeat. His tail swished behind him in rather broad half-circles, which spoke volumes on its own, but the pair of deep green eyes said all that needed to be said. Frustration, misunderstanding, anger, and even a little bit of fear.

"So much for 'nothing personal', huh," the outnumbered vulpine rumbled.

"It's just that you are becoming a bit too large of an icon for the populace, you see. I'm planning on doing a few things to the Federation's regime in, let's say, a month from now. Can't have you running around leading rebellion or whatever."

"And you honestly think that is going to work."

"Oh, you'll find out. I regret you forced me to do this, though." The feline put on an obviously fake frown. "If you just agreed to stop, I wouldn't have needed to do this, but you worms are all the same." the General noted with a chuckle, waving a paw at the guards. Two of them lowered their rifles, the third remaining at the door with his plasma rifle aimed steadily at Fox's head. The two approached the vulpine and each grabbed an arm, restraining the fox from performing any action of some kind.

"McCloud, you are charged with the murder of Field Lieutenant-Commander Jere."

"That guy died of a heart attack two years ago, idiot!"

"Doesn't mean I can't pin it on you. By the way, as you know, the penalty for the murder of a military official is death. Now, off with you."

The guards at Fox's sides proceeded to tug the vulpine towards the door at their superior's command, but the man in their center did not cooperate. With a furious roar he spun his previously relaxed arms around, taking both guards by surprise, allowing his arms to slip free. Ducking to narrowly escape the embrace of a purple ray of glowing plasma, the bolt hit the wall right next to the General, instantly setting fire to the crimson tapestry. The vulpine dodged an incoming blow, closing his paw around the gun that attempted to hit him with the heel. A quick backward yank was all that was needed to take the soldier off his balance and launch him forward. Fox had hoped he would hit the second guard as well by throwing the first canine into him, but failed because the latter rolled to the side before the collision could take place. Another flash of purple zipped past his head - it wasn't quite well-aimed. Either the soldier at the back of the room was bad at his job or he was simply reluctant to kill _the great McCloud_. Now that all three of them were either recovering or reloading, Fox took the short moment of calm to reach for his own pistol, clutching it in his right paw and sliding back the safety lock on the top. With a content whirring the thing powered on, a holographic targeting recticle appearing just above the barrel. A small glass sphere underneath the center of the weapon started to spin wildly, the liquid inside turning into a familiar glowing red-tinted form.

"It seems we are at an impasse, then," the white feline noted, nervously eyeing the orange flame on the wall tapestry to his left. It slowly grew, consuming bits of wool in the process, but was by far not yet large enough to pose a serious threat.

"I'll kill you for this," Fox coldly replied, his gun pointed at the third of the soldiers. He realized he shouldn't have given any of them the time to recover. Now he had three guns pointed at him, again, which put him in a familiar situation. Only this time, he also had a weapon. A smokey scent spread throughout the room as the wallpaper behind the tapestry caught fire as well.

"Nope. I think otherwise."

The soldier who had rolled away earlier used the split second of distraction to lunge forward and tackle the vulpine. Both went down rolling on the floor yelping. They glared at each other with an apparent hate. Fox had dropped his blaster mid-fall and attempted to get a hold on it again, flailing his right arm around. The General calmly stepped over to it and kicked the ST-04 away, crossing that plan off the list. Nimble reflexes allowed him to roll over to his left side, the sudden shift in gravity caused the canine to lose his grip on the fox's throat. Fox immediately shot up his right leg, his knee delivered a painful blow just between the soldier's legs.

Now that the heavy weight on top of him was gone, Fox slid across the floor and reclaimed the ST-04. In a split second's time he raised his arm, drawing an imaginary line between his arm and the torso of the guard near the door. He vaguely rumbled something along the lines of 'I'm sorry' when he saw they lined up perfectly. His finger squeezed the trigger, and a warm light began collecting and growing just in front of the gun's barrel. It gained intensity and lost its transparency over the course of a second, and before the victim realized the fox's intentions, it was too late: Fox let go of the trigger and with that also released the chains on the noisy ball. The red-heated ray of plasma quite literally burned its way into the canine's chest, who fell to the ground yelling. One down, three to go.

What came next was unexpected - a sudden whack on the back of his head. Seron had hit him with some metal thing. It wasn't quite enough to knock him out cold, but Fox did fall on the ground again, groaning. Unfortunately for him this gave one of the soldiers, who had been carefully watching for an oppurtunity, the upper hand. The guy immediately took his chance to pounce on his prey, smashing Fox's head back into the carpet just as he was about to get up again. The bodyguard proved to be physically far superior to the vulpine, rendering the vulpine unable to roll over or push the man away like he had done earlier. The soldier carefully closed his paws around the vulpine's throat, pressing both thumbs down against it, sealing off the fox's airway. Fox's mind told him of what kind of trouble he was currently in. A quick analysis of the situation proved that there was... nothing... he could do about it. While he vainly tried to push away the muscled person with all four of his limbs, spinning his head around and attemping to bite down on one of those arms, all attempts at escape ended in utter failure. The pressure on his throat increased gradually, up to the point where his lungs helpfully reminded him of the current lack of oxygen. As his strength was sapped, his struggles became less powerful, further decreasing what little hope he still had left. Fox's arms fell limp, his tongue lolling out of his muzzle as he tried to get some fresh air. Instead, he triggered several gag reflexes. Only the bushy orange tail continued its panicked twitching, until a couple more seconds were enough to rob the vulpine of both his vision and consciousness.

General Seron stood next to the soldier who was strangling Fox, his arms crossed as he watched. Once the canine removed his paws from the vulpine's throat, the fox did not rise as expected, his body remaining lifelessly on the floor.

"You didn't kill him, did you?"

"Don't think so. He'll regain consciousness in a few hours, probably, sir."

"Good. Take him away, as covertly as possible. I don't want the world to find out about any of this... just yet... understood?"

"Yes, sir."


	2. Rise

Author's Notes: Exactly thirty days later, I present to you, my dearest reader, the second installment of a crazy conspiracy-themed fanfiction. According to what I have in mind, there will be one more part after this. Maybe an epilogue, but first, let's see where the second and third parts take us. Reviews, as always, are appreciated.

* * *

**- IN AUTHORITY WE TRUST -  
II. Rise**

_December 20th - 19:51_

Liquid heat flew past Fox's head. The young vulpine pressed a button on a small ball he had picked up earlier, tossing it over his shoulder, back to where he had come from. As soon as it hit the ground, it burst and emitted large, thick, black clouds, giving Fox the time he needed to vanish from view. While the coughing guards behind him recovered, the mercenary slipped around a corner and pressed his back against the wall. Soon enough one would dash around the same corner, unprepared for what should have been a rather predictable ambush.

Fox lunged at the surprised soldier, his knee delivering a blow in the lower stomach. His paws wrapped around those of the person he was attacking, yanking the blaster and skillfully flipping it over so the soldier was facing the barrel. With the same speed he placed the gun's tip on the male's knee before pulling the trigger, turning the entirety of that lower leg into a bloody mess. Fox didn't fancy a look and as soon as the screams of agony filled his ears, he pushed the guard away, onto the ground, firing a few more shots in the general direction of his other pursuers. They all missed, yet the element of buying precious time was there, and it would save his life in the long run.

And a long run it was - there was a fair bit of distance between him and his cell right now, but he felt that the further he went the stronger the resistance became. Though now he had his paws around the grip of a blaster pistol, which would prove to be an invaluable companion during the remainder of his escape run. McCloud examined the blaster for a short moment, attempting to discover some specific details. Cornerian Army standard-issue rapid fire blaster, model CT-7. While the rapid fire was a nice feature, the actual power output was quite low to make up for it. Whereas the weaponry Slippy produced could kill with just one blow, this weapon would simply sear whatever flesh it would be used upon. It would have to do, though - little other choice.

The building lobby appeared in his field of view. He was running faster than he had ever ran in his entire life, afraid of what would inevitably be following him. Shocked desk clerks stared at the escaping fox, who did little else but making a break for the door. No visitors could be found in the large room - most had probably fled at the sound of blaster fire. The lobby bathed in orange light, the setting sun beaming through the large glass windows from just above a building-dotted horizon. How long had he been down there?

* * *

_December 19th - 15:40_

"... Therefore, we saw to it for him to be apprehended."

"And sentenced? To _death_?!"

"Yes. Surely you understand he has to pay for his crimes."

A blue avian stared back at a holographic image of a snow-white panther. Falco's beak was agape and he found himself at a loss for words.

"Furthermore, now that your... team... has lost its leader, I must request for you to cease aerial activities."

"...What, y'want Star Fox to disband?"

"Yes."

A few more seconds passed. Falco eventually stepped closer to the comms device. "All I have to say to you - go to Hell." Instead of waiting for an answer, the bird smashed his fist on a button, causing the holographic representation of General Seron to vanish and the gentle humming of the comms device to cease.

Nobody in the room spoke for what seemed like an eternity. Falco broke the thoughtful silence, spinning around to face his teammates, who had been watching the entire conversation from a safe distance. "Y'all buying what that moron says?"

"No," Peppy remarked dryly.

Krystal remained silent, turning around to examine the infinity of space, something she always did when she needed more time to sort her thoughts. Falco simply could not read that vixen, but he was fairly certain she was just as opposed to Seron's judgement as he was.

"Foxie wouldn't do that," Falco finally muttered, the insecurity leaking from the sentence.

"He wouldn't," the blue vixen said, her paw still scratching her chin as she gazed into the obsidian void.

"Uh, yeah, there's this too-" Slippy began, before being interrupted by the ship's on-board artificial intelligence.

"_Cruiser classification record updated - permission for free space travel has been revoked. Protocol requires us to report to Cornerian airspace ASAP._"

"Yes, that, ROB, thanks," the green toad sighed, leaning back in his chair.

Peppy cared little for ROB's statement. Apparently Seron had removed their legal ability to go anywhere they pleased, but the old hare had other things on mind. "He did not mention _when_ the execution will take place, right?"

"Naw..."

"I suspect they'll keep him in the central prison complex. Which is bad for us - he won't be leaving that place alive, without help from the outside."

"Or from the inside," Krystal mused.

Peppy turned to their synthetic friend. "ROB, set a course for Corneria."

"_Affirmative. ETA three days, six hours._"

"It'll take that long?"

"Sector X is a long way from Corneria, Falco, even at top speed..." Peppy replied.

"Screw that, there has to be a faster way. We don't _have_ three days. Fox doesn't."

"_Warp drive functionality on short range is inadvisable,_" ROB declared.

"Do I look like I care?"

"_Warp drive is intended for intergalactic travel, and may result in severe damage or destruction of this vessel when used for sector-to-sector warping._"

Falco did not reply but simply stared at the robot, one eyebrow raised and his arms crossed. ROB stared back, with a rather empty, metallic expression. Peppy rumbled something along the lines of 'hope you know what you're doing' and Slippy rolled his eyes, starting to punch buttons on several panels.

"_Very well. Initiating secondary core start-up sequence._"

* * *

_December 20th - 23:12_

On a sad, wet gravel road he stood, hands tucked in his pockets and a black hood covering most of his head. Heavy rain poured down around him as the lonely fox struggled to follow the pathway. The cold blanket of the night darkened his surroundings, impeding his progress. The rain strengthened his resolve to find shelter - Fox was already drenched. The black coat that prevented immediate recognition was snatched from the complex he had only just escaped. Quite the impressive feat now that he looked back on it. Were it not for the help he received from the inside, he wouldn't have accomplished such a thing.

"McCloud," a voice next to him suddenly spoke.

Fox jolted from his sad pose and swung his blaster around his finger like he had done so many times before, the barrel of the weapon he picked up earlier today now pointed at the face of someone the vulpine did not recognize. The raccoon raised both of his paws in reflex.

"Sorry, shouldn't have sneaked up on you."

"Who the hell are you?" Fox demanded, two fingers applying a little bit of pressure on the weapon's trigger.

"D-Dex. Dex Jelno."

The mercenary tapped his foot.

"I've been looking for you, Fox."

"Whole damn Corneria is," the vulpine snapped back, his instincts telling him it would be better to shoot the guy and leave, but he did not do it. Mercenary rule number one: don't shoot until shot at.

"Yes, you see, I'm part of a group that's trying to get Seron to justice."

"So soon already?"

"The guy has been messing with Corneria for several weeks now, y'know. I guess you missed the larger part of it, you being in space and whatev's."

Fox glared at the gray-furred creature, examining the blue eyes behind the white 'mask' of fur for any sign of hostility.

"Uh, Fox, the barrel of yer gun is real pretty and all, but, ah..."

"No sudden moves, you hear me," the vulpine warned, before lowering his blaster. He did not holster it but kept it in his right paw, just in case he'd need to use it soon. Fox had a gut feeling that that would be the very case, rather soon.

"What's with Seron?"

"I dunno, alright, but he's insane. That's all I know or need to know."

"I can work with that." Fox squinted his eyes. "Hey, aren't you that guy who..."

"Gave you the keys, yes... was starting to think you have a shit memory."

"Not really in a position to say that kind of thing, are you?" Fox replied, a chuckle rolling over his lips for the first time in several days. "Fine. What do you want from me?"

"Your help."

"With what?"

"Killing a demon."

* * *

Fox roared in anger as the feline nimbly evaded every object the vulpine threw at him. Krystal had been standing behind him for several minutes but suddenly wasn't there anymore. He didn't have to look around to verify her absence, as the gentle prodding in his mind, the telltale sign of the vixen being nearby, was no longer there. Seron seemed to burst, a ring of fire spreading from around him to everywhere in the room, touching whatever object it found and evaporating it, as if it had never been there. The wave blinded the young mercenary. In a manner of seconds the glowing fire had consumed everything in the office, even the windows disappearing, leaving behind only a black emptiness. Interestingly, Seron and Fox were the only two still around, standing on an invisible floor in the void. No stars nor Solar was around to illuminate them, yet what seemed to be a large, bright spotlight shone down between them. While General Seron was hard to see, Fox knew exactly where he was. He clutched his fist around the grip of a combat knife he suddenly had in his hand, raising his arm and running straight for the evil feline. Seron did the same. Directly underneath the spotlight they made contact, steel clashing against steel, both baring their teeth. A shimmer of reflective light in the corner of his eye caught Fox's attention, the vulpine jumping up to dodge a swing of a machete at height of his knees. Using the momentum from his jump and the crouched position Seron was in, Fox stretched his right leg, the boot connecting with the General's suit, sending the panther down to the floor. Mid-fall Seron caught himself on his arms and swung his legs around just as Fox's boots made contact with the ground again, taking him off balance and causing the mercenary to fall just as Seron did. The General jumped up with a speed that amazed the vulpine, and another flash zipped past. Fox couldn't help but moan as he lost control over his limbs, a sharp echoing pain piercing his chest. He brought himself to raise his head and find out what happened, finding the upper half of a large, silvery machete sticking out of his chest. Maniacal laughter filled the room, and got louder by the second.

Fox yelled and shot up, the pain suddenly gone entirely. He put a paw on his throat, moving it down all the way to his belly. No cuts, no injuries, no blood. Just his green and white flight suit, without any damage whatsoever. What he did notice was that his back was incredibly sweaty. The fox's deep green eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room, revealing it to be a small bedroom. The mercenary remembered this was where he had gone to bed just a few hours ago. The door in the back of the room swung open and Dex entered, the raccoon looking puzzled to find Fox sitting on top of the sheets on the bed, who was slowly rubbing his forehead, groaning, recovering from some crazy mental adventure. Dex crossed his arms and chuckled lightly.

"Bad dream?"

"You bet..." Fox murmured.

* * *

_December 21th - 7:03_

McCloud's arrival seemed to have reinforced the rebels' morale. Every time someone complimented him on his skills, Fox would humbly reply that he was 'just a mercenary, not a wizard,' but it didn't really help. While the attention annoyed him mildly, he knew perfectly well he had become a symbol for the populace of Lylat.

Fox had found a dimly lit corner in the main lounge where a lot of the rebels hanged out, idly chatting, occasionally playing card games, or planning their next move. While he was leaning against the wall, his paw slipped in his pocket and re-emerged with a communicator. Though it wasn't his own Star Fox-branded device, which had been taken by the General, it had been replaced with a standard edition Cornerian unit. The nasty consequence was that it's address list was empty. The vulpine flipped off the plastic cover and punched a few buttons, punching in a communicator address from his memory, before the device started to quietly beep. Fox put the device to his ear.

"Who is this?" the device rumbled.

"Pepper... you still alive?"

"F-Fox, is that you? By the gods," the deep voice of the old hound creaking through the speakers. "How in the world did you escape? And where are you?"

"I can't tell you over the comm line. You know that."

"Right." The old General sighed. "I'm just relieved to hear you are alright."

"The feeling is mutual, my friend," Fox replied. "Are you safe, sir?"

"No. They know where I am. Your old friend is helping me out, though. I think he found a new place for me to stay until... this is all over."

Fox smiled. Peppy, that old lunatic. "Be safe, Pepper."

"You as well, Fox. You know what you have to do."

The voice disappeared with a soft click, the device's beeping resuming once again. It was just now that Fox realized quite a lot others were staring at him, making him feel rather awkward. He pocketed the communicator, raising an eyebrow. They quickly resumed their earlier occupations. Fox suddenly thought of his team. Why hadn't the thought crossed his mind earlier? In a sudden haste he grabbed his comm unit again, fumbling with it, before noticing Dex standing in front of him.

"Hey. You alright?" the raccoon inquired.

"Haven't spoken to my team in a while. I think I have to make a call."

"You should. I'll leave ya'alone, then," the rebel noted before starting to walk away.

"Dex..."

The raccoon stopped in his tracks, but didn't turn around to face the fox.

"I don't trust you," the mercenary declared.

"Nor should you," the raccoon replied non-chalantly.

* * *

_December 21th - 7:09_

"_Incoming transmission from Corneria City on channel two,_" ROB chirped.

"Details?" Slippy inquired.

"_Tracing failed, exact source location unknown. I do not recognize the caller's identity, it appears to be assigned to a Cornerian military unit._"

"Someone we don't know, then? Accept the call," the toad replied dryly.

A small window popped up on one of the several monitors Slippy was working with. There was no video, just a waveline depicting whatever audio the transmission produced.

"Slip, you there?" a voice rumbled.

"Always," the green toad replied, having recognized the voice of his friend and leader. "We're approaching Cornerian airspace. How are you holding up?"

Fox looked around the room, his gaze locking on another fox in the far back of the lounge who burst into laughter, probably due to a joke his friends made. The fellow wore a white shirt, a pair of track pants, and a deep blue bandana around his head. The shirt was visibly stained. "Alright, I guess..." Fox spoke in his communicator. What amazed the mercenary was that all of the people in the building didn't really seem to be worried. They were fully aware of the threat an insane dictator would pose, but they appeared overly confident they would prevail in the end.

Somewhere behind Slippy a blue avian entered the bridge, being stared at by ROB for a split second before the robot resumed its work. "Who's that, Slip?"

On the other end of the line, the mercenary leader perked his ears. "Good morning, Falco."

"The hell? Fox, that you?"

"Alive and kicking, buddy," Fox replied.

Falco looked dumbfounded for a moment before recollecting himself. Of course Fox would escape, how could he ever have doubted that? "I'll go tell Krystal and Peppy," he said, before leaving the room again.

"Slippy, you know they'll be waiting for you when you get closer, right?"

"I do, Fox. Though actually, while you were... out... I did some research... and I believe there are a lot of rebel sympathizers among the Army forces, including those stationed around Corneria. They outnumber the loyalists, at least."

"Which means you'd be able to get through without them reporting anything."

"Exactly."

"Spare me the details, alright? This call could be intercepted."

"Gotcha. And, uh, Fox... I'm happy you're still alive."

A chuckle. "You're not rid of me that easily. Anyway, I should go. We'll meet soon, I suppose. Whatever you do, be careful."

"_Connection terminated_," ROB remarked as the comm channel's window on the screen flatlined before disappearing.

* * *

_December 21th - 12:44_

"Tomorrow, Seron will be meeting with two Army officials. I'm not sure 'at for, but obviously we're not going to like the outcome either way," the raccoon in the center of the room spoke, leaning on a table that was cluttered with several piles of papers and data pads.

"That's our time to strike?" a fox with a blue bandana spoke.

"No. The Army central is a fortress - one attackin' with our current forces would equal suicide."

"Then what do you propose?"

"We hit him when he's on the way there. There's only so much defense an escort can provide."

"And you are suggesting he is not at all anticipating an attack?" McCloud suddenly spoke, who had been quietly observing from a distance, leaning against the wall.

"Of course he's expecting us. But he doesn't know when or where, which gives us the element of surprise," Dex replied.

"How do you know this, anyway?" Fox noted.

"Inside sources, 'a course. He has more moles in the higher parts of Central Command than he thinks."

"Though we're only getting one shot at it. If it fails, probably everyone ends up dead."

"Which is why we are discussin' this now. Dun' be pessimistic, Fox."

McCloud opened his mouth to say something but decided against it and closed his muzzle again, instead resuming his quiet listening.

"Lis'n up, people. What Fox said is true - if we screw up, we die. So let's not screw up."

"Way of a pep-talk," someone in the crowd observed.

Dex either dismissed the comment or didn't hear it at all. "He will be taking Highway 17, which leads directly to the Green District in the southern part of the city."

Fox's ears perked up. The notorious Green District was a high-security area that housed the important people in the government, and was also home to many military bases, training camps and airports. Amusingly, whereas it was illegal to enter for most civilians, Fox actually had clearance to be there, though now it would more than likely be a stupid move to do so.

Dex continued, "Once he's in there, he's gone. We're not going to reach him past those gates. Luckily for us, Highway 17 has one area that is not directly adjacent to a military zone."

Fox knew.

"190 kilometers upspin from the entrance to the Green District, the guard posts were destroyed in the Aparoid Invasion, and they haven't been repaired as of yet because there's, well, slums."

"We ambush them there," the fox with the blue bandana declared.

"Exactly. Now, if you'll all look at this map..."

Dex fumbled with a datapad and unceremoniously tossed it on the table. With a loud beep the device suddenly shot a beam of light up into the air, which started to expand, taking on the shape of a large rectangle. This all took only a second. Once the holographic rectangle was there, a gentle flicker introduced several other lines and symbols on the map.

With one finger Dex drew a circle on the datapad's surface, which in turn caused the exact same circle to appear in the projection. Whereas the lines floating in the air were colored a translucent purple, a bright red drawing surrounded the 'broken' section of Highway 17.

Fox's communicator beeped. Apparently he was the only one who had heard it, because no one turned around to look at him. This moment of solitude granted him the oppurtunity to flip the replacement comm device open, spotting an icon indicating he had received a message. He did not recognize the number of the communicator that had sent the message.

_I hope you are as much fun as your team was._


End file.
